Perspective
by eclaire291
Summary: The Turk's world through the eyes of a Rookie. Elena discovers what happens when your personality clashes with your job description. [Ongoing]


Title: Perspective  
Characters/Pairings: Elena, Reno, Rude, Tseng, Rufus  
Author's Notes: Various bits of dialogue and events are taken from Before Crisis, Crisis Core, FFVII, Advent Children, and the "On the Way to a Smile" novella.  
And, yes, I know that Elena is a bit of a spaz in Chapter 1. But, for those of you that remember, she was a bit absentminded in FFVII too. It's my theory that she started off that way and gradually became more professional as time went on. How and why this came about will actually be explained in a later chapter, so keep reading!  
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the Final Fantasy franchise. If I did I'd actually have money, I probably wouldn't spend my time writing fanfiction, and various Final Fantasy characters would/wouldn't be dead.

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**Chapter 1: First Day**

_I'm going to be a Turk. I, Elena, am going to be a Turk._ No matter how I worded it or how many times I said it, I still couldn't believe it was true. It wasn't that I didn't think I was good enough. I had been ranked at the top of my Martial Arts class for five consecutive terms and only my own father, an instructor at the Shinra Military School, surpassed me during handgun training. However, since my sister Rosalind had become a Turk, I had vowed to never set foot inside Shinra Headquarters. And then I had been captured by AVALANCHE. Even with all my training I had felt helpless and when Rosalind had finally shown up to save me, I had been in the way. From that moment on, I had a new goal. I was going to become a Turk and surpass my sister.

There was no way I was going to apply to become a Turk while Rosalind was still there though. A month ago I had started out as a secretary for the Turks, filing papers and going on coffee runs. It was far from the ideal job and the fact that I had to be in the same building as Rosalind day after day was unnerving. The other Turks would tease me about how much I looked like Rosalind. However, as they quickly found out, even though Rosalind and I were nearly identical in every way except our eye color, our personalities were polar opposites, which gave them something else to laugh at. They couldn't believe someone as stern and no-nonsense as Rosalind could have such a klutz for a sister. They never made fun of me twice though. I had a powerful roundhouse kick.

Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I slowly ran a hand through my shoulder-length blonde hair and frowned. Picking up the pair of scissors on the sink, I grabbed a section of hair and neatly seared it off. Each time my hair landed in the sink I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my chest. _Snip._ My life as a bartender. _Snip._ Living in my sister's shadow. _Snip, snip, snip._ Everything I resented in life was slowly falling away. Replacing the scissors on the side of the sink, I studied my new haircut. My hair was now cropped close to my ears, my bangs swept to the side. It was slightly longer on the right side, just touching my jawline, but it looked more stylish than disproportionate.

I turned around and looked thoughtfully at the navy blue suit hanging on the bathroom door. It was almost untouchable in the plastic garment bag. It was free of wrinkles and appallingly lacking in even a microscopic bit of lint or stray pet hair. I gave a small laugh and peered out into my bedroom where my clothes were strewn around the floor. Before now I'd been happy to just find an outfit that was reasonably clean and odor-free. Now I was expected to actually iron. _Iron?_ I didn't even own an iron.

"Turk's only get one suit so don't bleed on it, cry on it, sweat on it, puke on it, or anything else nasty. Tseng'll shoot you," a recently relocated Turk with a thick ponytail of ash-colored hair and a careless smile had said after dropping off the suit last week. I didn't doubt her. I hadn't encountered Tseng much during my time in Shinra as a secretary, but other employees had remarked that he was stern and somewhat unapproachable.

Carefully removing the garment bag, I ran my hand over the fabric of the suit. Well, there was no turning back now. Breathing out a sigh, I stripped down to my underwear and pulled on the suit. The crisp collared shirt was itchy, and I realized at once why the Shinra building was air-conditioned during all four seasons. I was already sweating. Strike one for me. At least it wasn't as noticeable as blood or puke, the two things that I hoped would never grace my suit.

Ignoring my own discomfort, I turned back to the mirror and struggled with my necktie. After several minutes of swearing at and threatening the cumbersome accessory, I managed to knot it in an acceptable fashion. _Damn it, I bet Rosalind never had problems like this,_ I thought bitterly.

Returning to my bedroom, I went over to the coffee machine I had set up on my nightstand because I was too lazy in the morning to go into the kitchenette to get a cup of coffee. Pouring a strong cup, I had just lifted the mug to my lips when my alarm went off causing me to spill the coffee on my lap. _Shit! Shit, shit, shit!_ I leapt off my bed and began to desperately dab at the hot liquid with my bed sheets. "Please, don't stain! Don't stain! No," I begged the coffee that was slowly seeping deeper into the fabric of my suit.

To add to the complete chaos that was slowly consuming my morning, the ancient rotary dial telephone I had saved from a yard sale several years ago began to ring as well. I snatched the phone off my nightstand and turned quickly to scour the floor for my shoes, causing the cord to wrap around my waist. "H-hello? Elena, speaking," I answered distractedly. There was a brief silence on the other line. Still dabbing at my suit, I grabbed for my shoes and pulled one onto my foot.

"Elena, this is Tseng," the person finally spoke.

"Oh! Yes, Tseng, sir! Good morning!" I lifted my left foot to pull on my other shoe and lost my balance, falling with a soft _thump_ on the floor. "Ouch! Oh, shit!" The phone mount was ripped off the nightstand, bringing the coffee mug with it. The coffee at the bottom of the mug splashed onto the carpet. I scrambled over to the mug and set it up right before any more of the liquid could seep into the carpet. I grasped my already damp sheets and furiously soaked up the second spill.

"Excuse me?" Tseng asked. "Is everything alright?"

I felt the heat jump to my face and nervously bit my bottom lip, a bad habit I thought I had grown out of in grade school. I wondered if Rosalind ever blushed during her time with the Turks. Probably not. I couldn't imagine Rosalind doing anything foolish enough to warrant blushing. But I couldn't even have a phone conversation with my boss without embarrassing myself. My alarm was still blaring in the background, and I was sure I sounded more than a little harried. Not to mention my outburst when the coffee spilled. I hadn't even been a Turk for 24 hours and they had already heard me curse. Crawling over to my nightstand, I fumbled with my alarm before finally shutting it off. There, that was better. Now I could at least pretend that my sanity was still intake.

"Oh, hehe," I laughed nervously. "Sorry about that, sir."

There was another brief silence and then Tseng continued, "I called to inform you that you are to check in with President Rufus before clocking in on your first day. He will inform you of your duties and select a Turk to give you a tour of the Shinra building."

"But I've been working for Shinra for thirty-two days, sir. Why do I—?"

Tseng broke in abruptly, "It is company policy for all Turks to become acquainted to the building and their duties during their first day. You were never given an official tour during your time here as a secretary. Don't be late." With that, the line went dead.

Slightly dazed, I fell back on the floor and listened to the angry buzz of the phone next to me. The phone cord was still wrapped around my waist, I was only wearing one shoe, my suit was soaked with coffee, my sheets were damp, and my bedroom looked like a disaster area. I pressed my palms to my eyes with a groan and then glanced over at my alarm clock. It was 5:37 a.m. Okay, no big deal. I had 23 minutes to get to work. I could manage that. I almost grabbed my purse but reluctantly dropped it when I remembered that I was a Turk now, not a secretary. A Turk. _I'm a Turk,_ I reminded myself. I smiled and grabbed my car keys off the nightstand.

Forty minutes later, I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to call myself a Turk considering I was currently sprinting across the Shinra Parking Garage at a breakneck pace, very, very late for my first day at work and cursing vividly under my breath. After what seemed like ages, I finally made it to the elevator. I violently slammed my palm against the up button and gave it two more sharp prods for good measure. It was my first day, and I had an interview with the president! Things couldn't get much worse.

"The elevator's out of service."

Apparently they could.

I turned quickly toward the source of the voice and felt my jaw drop. "Excuse me?" I asked in a deadly whisper. "I am late for work."

A bored-looking parking attendant was at my elbow. He didn't even flinch at my tone; no doubt he had suffered that tone all morning from disgruntled employees. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Clearly unmoved by my predicament, he said, "Give me a break. That Scarlet woman already threatened me at gunpoint earlier. The bottom line is, it's broken and no amount of whining is going to fix it. Now you can either take the stairs or sit your ass down here and wait until maintenance decides to fix the elevator. Your choice." He indicated a metal door at the other end of the garage and then turned away and walked back to the security office in the garage.

I glanced at my watch. It was 6:14 a.m. I opened the door to the stairwell and sighed as I glanced at the endless flight of stairs leading into the building. I tried not to think of how many stairs I was going to climb to get all the way up to the 70th floor. Several minutes and several hundred stairs later, I found myself on the 69th floor, the last floor I could reach using the main stairwell. I was out of breath and slightly dizzy. Probably because I had barreled up the last few flights in a panic over how late I was. And I had thought I was in shape from all the training I had done at the academy. I grimaced inwardly as I considered my sweaty and flushed appearance while passing the window of an empty conference room. Obviously not.

I finally found myself at the desk of the president's secretary. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked without even glancing up from what she was doing, which appeared to be reading the latest issue of a women's lifestyle magazine, particularly an article on how to determine which color nail polish best suits which types of outfits and makeup. I couldn't help but glare enviously at her. I hadn't even had time to catch my breath during my brief stint as secretary for the Turks, they had always had me running around between the different departments to deliver paperwork and complete other tasks.

"I have a meeting with the president. I'm the new Turk they hired and—"

"Name?" the secretary interrupted, still not looking up for her magazine.

"Elena," I answered, struck dumb by her lack of concern.

She stretched out her hand and pressed the call button on the intercom on her desk. "President Shinra, the new Turk Elena is here to see you," she informed him, her voice effortlessly transitioning from uninterested to honey sweet.

"Yes, yes, send her in," the president's voice answered. "Oh, and Cecil, I have told you countless times to address me as President Rufus. I've suffered enough of your negligence. You're fired."

Cecil blinked at the intercom several times and then stood up angrily muttering something that sounded a look like "Tightwad, arrogant fucker thinks the world revolves around his pretty little head. Bastard better send me my last paycheck. 'President Rufus,' my ass." She proceeded to snatch things off her desk and violently throw them into her overlarge handbag.

I watched this display in amazement until Cecil finally turned to me and snapped, "Well, either go to his office or clear off." She pointed a stiff finger to a purple-carpeted staircase to the left of her desk and then returned to packing away her belongings.

Suddenly flooded with anxiety, I hesitantly climbed the staircase and stopped dead halfway up. If President Rufus had fired his own secretary for addressing him incorrectly, how would he react to me being late on my first day of work? I glanced over my shoulder. Should I just turn around and leave now? It would probably save me a lot of pain and humiliation. I shook my head firmly and tried to knock some sense into myself. I couldn't leave now. Not when I had something to prove to my family. _You'll see, Rosalind. I can be just as good as you,_ I thought. That reassurance didn't even have time to sink in before I reminded myself cynically, _Yeah, because I'm off to such a great start already_.

On that less than reassuring note, I climbed the rest of the stairs and looked through the doorway that led to the president's office. It was a bit overwhelming. As a secretary for the Turks, I had mostly stayed on the lower levels of the building and had never seen any of the executive's offices except Tseng's while carting around paperwork and his office had just been a standard work office save for the generous view provided by the ceiling to floor windows. President Rufus's office was breathtaking though. It was a large—no, _cavernous_—room with a marble floor, enough lights to temporarily blind me, and two rows of seemingly unnecessary pillars. Two benches for visitors were placed on the right side of the door, which meant… I reluctantly turned to the left and found President Rufus sitting at his desk, apparently going through paperwork. As if sensing my eyes on him, he looked up and smirked before gesturing for me to approach his desk.

"Ah, Elena, I was wondering when you would show up," he said smoothly, flicking a stray lock of blond hair out of his eyes only for it to fall back to its original position.

Panic bubbled up in my throat once again, and I fought the urge to open the top button of my shirt to allow me to breathe easier. Determined to explain myself, I launched into a frenzied speech, "President Rufus, sir, I apologize for being late. Tseng called me this morning and told me you wanted to meet with me. I thought I had enough time to arrive to work early but there was an accident on the road, sir, and traffic was backed up. And then I had to have my pass checked on the train to the Upper Plate because it didn't go through the electronic scanner. And then the elevator was broken and I had to take the stairs. I understand that that isn't an excuse though. I should have left earlier. As a Turk, I should have anticipated those delays. I'm sorry, sir, please don't fire me. I promise to try harder. This won't happen again, I—"

I broke off abruptly when I noticed that he had raised his eyebrow at me and was looking increasingly amused at my apology. "Apologies don't interest me," he said drily.

Embarrassed and grasping at a more professional greeting, I switched tactics, "Thank you for meeting with me, President Shinra…I mean, President _Rufus_," I quickly corrected myself, remembering what had just happened to his secretary. "I'm so honored that I was chosen to be part of the…uh, Department of Administrative Research. Although I'm a bit nervous right now because it's my first day on the job and all. But I guess you know what that's like. You're new too, right?" I stuttered, becoming increasingly flustered under his continued cold gaze. "I'm sorry about your father's unexpected death, by the way"

"Really? I'm not," Rufus answered coolly. I stared at him and felt my jaw drop in shock. Rufus didn't seem bothered by my reaction to his statement and continued, "As a Turk you are in charge of recruiting potential SOLDIER candidates as well as taking part in other missions should the need arise."

I nodded mutely, still too dazed to speak without making a complete fool of myself.

He reached into a drawer of his desk and then placed the items he had retrieved onto the top of his desk. "You are allowed to carry any weapons you are comfortable using; however, all Turks are required to carry a standard handgun with them at all times," he gestured to the gun lying on the desk.

With trembling hands, I reached for the gun and picked it up. My hands dropped uselessly to my sides. What was I supposed to do? Study the gun and make some smartass comment about how the gun isn't a model I'm used to but I'll make do? Pledge my loyalty to Shinra and say that I'd use a bullet on myself before I failed the company? I mentally slapped a palm to my forehead. Why couldn't do something besides stand there gaping like a fish? No doubt Rufus was wondering why I had been chosen for this job. _Oh, no! He's looking at me_,I thought in a panic. I watched with dread as he cocked an eyebrow in amusement and opened his mouth to speak. "Is there a problem? According to your application, you are familiar with firearms," he said smoothly.

I realized my hands were still trembling and quickly clenched my hands into fists. I shook my head vigorously. "I'm fine! I mean, yes, I'm familiar with firearms. Thank you, sir. Is there anything else, sir, or may I return to the others?"

Rufus leaned back in his chair, a smirk still gracing his lips. "The cell phone is yours as well. All Turks must have their company cell phone with them at all times. Under no circumstances may you ignore a call. Orders can change at the drop of a pin, and if you disobey orders because you did not receive the necessary call informing you of any changes to a mission, you will be fired. Whenever you contact another Shinra employee, you must use your company cell phone…" He watched as I tucked the handgun in the waistband of my pants and as I reached for the cell phone. "Oh, and you will be moving into an apartment on the Upper Plate tomorrow."

I nearly dropped the cell phone. I had only just finished paying off the mortgage on my flat in the Sector 6 slums. There was no way I could move, especially not to the Upper Plate. I didn't have enough money to rent a cardboard box on the Upper Plate. "W-what?"

"You will move into Apartment 214 of Shinra Apartments on East Street."

"Why?" I asked, a hint of indignation creeping into my voice. Great, now my boss thought I was bitch as well as a huge basket case. Why couldn't I be professional like Rosalind?

"I like to know that my employees are well within reach at all times. Emergencies can arise quickly and it would be difficult for you to do your job if you live twenty minutes away from Shinra Headquarters," he answered. He met my gaze and smirked slightly as he added, "Besides, this way you won't need to worry about dysfunction pass cards or highway accidents."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'll need more than 24 hours to move out of my apartment."

Rufus waved this away impatiently and said: "I have already sent two Shinra employees to your current residence. They are relocating your belongings as we speak. You can pick up the key to your apartment from the landlord of Shinra Apartments. Shinra, Inc. will pay for half the rent and you will be responsible for the rest, though I trust your wages earned here will be more than sufficient for you to live comfortably."

I stared at him. He had sent people to my flat without my permission. I found myself frantically wondering if I had anything potentially embarrassing or blackmail worthy lying around my flat. I concluded that there wasn't anything worth worrying about, but I still didn't relish the thought of two strangers going through my feminine hygiene products or my underwear drawer. Dammit, it was flat and they were my belongings.

Rufus placed his elbows on his desk and leaned forward slightly with that amused smirk still pulling at his lips. I had the feeling he was enjoying my discomfort and I tried to mask my outrage at his decision to relocate me. "Well, unless you have any further questions, you're dismissed," he said. Gesturing to the stairs, he continued, "You are expected at Floor 53 to have your photo taken for your employee identification card, which will allow you access to the upper levels of this building. A Turk will meet you there to take you on a tour of the building."

"Thank you, sir," I answered, certainly not thankful at all. _Strangers are touching my stuff,_ was all that I could think.

"Oh, and when you leave can you please let Cecil know that I have a meeting at noon and that she will have to postpone her lunch break until I return?" he asked, making in sound more like an order than a polite request.

I blinked at him and then answered, "You…you fired your secretary."

"Did I?" he smirked as if he knew full well what had happened. "In that case, tell her she is rehired as well as conveying the previous message. You're dismissed."

"Uh, yes, sir!" I nodded and then exited his office. Cecil was still trying to fit the entire contents of her desk into her purse and was currently attempting to stuff a mug full of pens into it, all the while still cursing under her breath.

"Uh…Miss Cecil…" I started awkwardly.

The woman looked up at up, shoving a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. The look she gave me was just as dark as her hair.

"T-the president told me to tell you that you're rehired and he has a meeting at noon. He wants you to take a late lunch," I stammered.

I wasn't sure how I expected her to react, but I didn't expect her to collapse into her chair and open her magazine again as if nothing had happened. "Whatever. He's such an asshole," she muttered. She dug a granola bar out of her purse, still bulging with the contents of her desk, and tore off the wrapper. She started to munch away on the granola bar, calmly flipping to the next page in her magazine.

Turning toward the stairs, I silently wondered what I had gotten myself into.


End file.
